


Idolatry rituals

by Artemis_Crimson



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Devotion, F/M, M/M, Other, The Guardian is a mystery, and there's one for each race and class because saint isn't sure, at least it's canon compliant until I get more of the lore because that's how bungie be, because time is weird, but its the hero of the red war/crota's end/the young wolf, or something really really horny but only if you're ace, this is a present for me, this is either a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Crimson/pseuds/Artemis_Crimson
Summary: In which Saint looks forward
Relationships: Guardian/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	1. Tenacious

His guardian- it’s an indulgence to call them that even in the relative privacy of his own mind. Saint shakes his helm and looks to the horizon, daydream starting from the top. His guardian is going to be perfect.

His guardian is:  
A hunter, small and graceful.  
They save him with a dance of arclight, they swirl their staff and throw back projectiles too fast and strong to hurt. They dodge and weave between bullets and bombardment. A knife throw ends the assault and he swears they timed it that way for dramatics. They know their weapons, this is in their nature and defence will become his. He takes the gun.

They save him with attrition and certainty. The void forms a neat bow in their hands and halts the fallen where the stand. They’re a chink of cool light in this sunbaked hell. They vanish from sight and cut down dozens of foes in the makeshift arena between breaths. They capture and kill the leaders and then stands cross-armed to give his gift when it’s over. He takes the gun.

They save him with single increment blazing shots and look back at him fond and certain. Throwing thumbs up and patting him on the back when they shelter for a moment to reload. Even when his hands shake with exhaustion. They don’t speak but the gold mask their wear has a wry smile under its beak, he just knows it. He think of Osiris’ gear, a little guilty for the similarity, and then their gesture prompts him forward. He takes the gun.

A Titan like him, a perfect match.  
Exactly like he just knew it would be. They’re stalwart as the walls they promise will be built and he holds his ward just a little longer, and then still a little longer yet to prove himself. Their shield cuts through enemies like air and to end it they knock a the tail end of a missile salvo away with a shrug of their shoulders. He takes the gun.

They’re sure as the sun beating down on them as hard as the house of rain’s assault. They look home here on mercury, in battle and the swelter they bring is welcome when they wade through the flow of fallen. They’re the sort of thing poems get written about. They carry a mystique with them, the same sort of cryptic as one of Osiris’ prophecies. He’s in awe, and there will be more like them. He takes the gun.

They’re ordered chaos in motion, electric potential falls off them in waves. They hit the rock of the planet hard enough the ground shakes. When they bang their fists against something it’s the lucky things that are merely dented, the rest disintegrates. They dart across the field and seem knowing at his excitement when Saint sees the perk picked out for him. It’s a strongly fond feeling. He takes the gun.

His guardian is a warlock, strange and beautiful.  
They have a sword of harm and healing. It’s made of the sun just like Osiris'. Their palms smoulder even when they don’t throw blasts and waves of pure solar light that doesn’t even singe the grass but still makes pyres of all it touches. They fly through the battle even when their wings of light are tucked neatly away. A paradox makes perfect sense from a warlock. He takes the gun.

They have a storm in them. A systematic, mechanical fury in glorious motion. He instantly understands why it’s called a trance as soon as they pull lightning from the sky above, it’s like there’s nothing else but them and the charge. The fallen machines burst from the static around them and their hands guide the rest to ark between each foe. It’s calculated and yet dirty handed. He takes the gun.

They have a silence about them, it screams to be heard. Saint knows guardians are not invincible but they fight like they are. They die again and again and it hurts to watch each time but their ghost is quick and their light never fades. They arise every time more dangerous than the last. New strategy and strength from the grave. The only option in face of their opposition is to give in. When they fight, wherever they move, reality rends asunder, glittering. The weight of their presence a gravity well on its own. He takes the gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The season of the dawn has brought many o14 shippers and new fics and this is wonderful and great but I've also been shipping the wolf/saint since I read that log conversation between Cayde and Shaxx SO IT'S RAREPAIR HELL ONCE MORE


	2. Obdurate

His Father calls him and Saint leaves the beginnings of the true walls to go back to his work. He argues and fights and is sent on dangerous missions. He goes grateful for purpose but each time it is months until he’s back on his ship, his Ghost just as tired as he is.  
A new accolade winds in rich maroon around his ankle. He collapses in the small area for passengers while Gepptto pilots, as they’d demanded upon their return. He’s not done, just returning once again to the city for more intel and a new list of targets.

For now though he can settle into that insomniac excuse for sleep and drift. He imagines the walls have grown since he’s been gone. He imagines one day they’ll be big enough to shield all of humanity. Saint imagines one day standing on top of them in a safer world with the guardian. A more peaceful world where they’ll unmask and talk.

They will be Awoken, unearthly calm with starlight currents swimming in their skin. Eyes like shards of something precious and sharp. They will smile and show him a trick of magic. They’ll speak of their journeys, similar ambitions.

They will be Human, resilient and cunning. Tied ancient to this small rock. Calloused hands warm like the sunshine. They’ll laugh with him and take a moment to breath. They’ll speak of their homes, past and future.

They will be an Exomind, like him. Amnesia and a number to their name. Perfect automata. Sturdy metal plating. They’ll spar with him the mortal way, tearing mechanical might. They’ll speak of the crypt, hardline understanding.

They reach the city gates and he shakes himself from his daydream. He goes joyously to see the change since he was last here. To his dismay it is not all good. The vex issue Osiris had pursued so fervently has left the city divided and his dearest old friend exiled. He’s gone from the post Saint had hoped he’d fit so well in. It’s not a choice. He feels like he doesn’t make those very often, that his decisions are made by fate not his own will. That it’s only up to him to see the path through. It’s not a choice. He follows Osiris because he can not comprehend doing anything else.

There’s no time for the comfort of fantasy in the infinite forest. And constant battle is not the hell to him it would be to many others. Saint believes firmly that it’s in his nature, that he was always meant to be forged into something unyielding.  
The Vex are merely cast from similar alloys.

There’s no time for fantasy because there is no time and too much time here all at once. He is certain, the battle is glorious and his foes are endless. He is searching for Osiris he will dream when they are safe. 

It’s not the time for this, he can’t truly tell it’s passing but years and centuries must go by because he feels so so weary. Osiris does not wish to be found. The Vex must be planning something. Shifting paths of glass and gold and glittering currents do not stabilize but he feels that they begin to herd him in one direction. A gate looms on the horizon and what can the greatest Titan do but advance?  
He knows this is a trap and hopes he is strong enough to break it. He breaks his temporal rule, offers a prayer and plea to his saviour instead of the Traveler.  
Saint holds tight the vision of their city. He marches in and takes the gun with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then the guardian saved him from the martyr mind and they Lived Happily Ever After Okay?
> 
> ...Unless I decide to write angst because that coffin in the corridors of time and the datemined eulogy speech got me swoonin' for it already

**Author's Note:**

> The season of the dawn has brought many o14 shippers and this is wonderful and great but I've been shipping the wolf/saint since that log conversation between Cayde and Shaxx SO


End file.
